The Bow of Orange Ribbon | Page 7

of Leyden. The likeness of one of them, Adrian Van Heemskirk, was in his best bedroom,--the big, square form wrapped in a pea-jacket; a crescent in his hat, with the device, "_Rather Turk than Papist_;" and upon his breast one of those medals, still hoarded in the Low Countries, which bore the significant words, "In defiance of the Mass."
He knew all the stories of these men,--how, fortified by their natural bravery, and by their Calvinistic acquiescence in the purposes of Providence, they put out to sea in any weather, braved any danger, fought their enemies wherever they found them, worked like beavers behind their dams, and yet defiantly flung open their sluice-gates, and let in the ocean, to drown out their enemies.
Through his mother, a beautiful Zealand woman, he was related to the Evertsens, the victorious admirals of Zealand, and also to the great mercantile family of Doversteghe; and he thought the enterprise of the one as honourable as the valour of the other. Beside the sailor pictures of Cornelius and Jan Evertsen, and the famous "Keesje the Devil," he hung sundry likenesses of men with grave, calm faces, proud and lofty of aspect, dressed in rich black velvet and large wide collars,--merchants who were every inch princes of commerce and industry.
These lines of thought, almost tedious to indicate, flashed hotly and vividly through his mind. The likes and dislikes, the faiths and aspirations, of past centuries, coloured the present moments, as light flung through richly stained glass has its white radiance tinged by it. The feeling of race--that strong and mysterious tie which no time nor circumstances can eradicate--was so living a motive in Joris Van Heemskirk's heart, that he had been quite conscious of its appeal when Semple spoke of a marriage between Katherine and his own son. And Semple had understood this, when he so cunningly insinuated a common stock and a common form of faith. For he had felt, instinctively, that even the long tie of friendship between them was hardly sufficient to bridge over the gulf of different nationalities.
Then, Katherine was Van Heemskirk's darling, the very apple of his eye. He felt angry that already there should be plans laid to separate her in any way from him. His eldest daughters, Cornelia and Anna, had married men of substance in Esopus and Albany: he knew they had done well for themselves, and had become contented in that knowledge; but he also felt that they were far away from his love and home. Joanna was already betrothed to Capt. Batavius de Vries; Bram would doubtless find himself a wife very soon; for a little while, he had certainly hoped to keep Katherine by his own side. Semple, in speaking of her as already marriageable, had given him a shock. It seemed such a few years since he had walked her to sleep at nights, cradled in his strong arms, close to his great, loving heart; such a little while ago when she toddled about the garden at his side, her plump white hands holding his big forefinger; only yesterday that she had been going to the school, with her spelling-book and Heidelberg in her hand. When Lysbet had spoken to him of the English lady staying with Madam Semple, who was teaching Katherine the new crewel-stitch, it had appeared to him quite proper that such a child should be busy learning something in the way of needlework. "Needlework" had been given as the reason of those visits, which he now remembered had been very frequent; and he was so absolutely truthful, that he never imagined the word to be in any measure a false definition.
[Illustration: With her spelling-book and Heidelberg]
Therefore, Elder Semple's implication had stunned him like a buffet. In his own room, he sat down on a big oak chest; and, as he thought, his wrath slowly gathered. Semple knew that gay young English officers were coming and going about his house, and he had not told him until he feared they would interfere with his own plans for keeping Neil near to him. The beautiful little Dutch maiden had been an attraction which he was proud to exhibit, just as he was proud of his imported furniture, his pictures, and his library. He remembered that Semple had spoken with touching emphasis of his longing to keep his last son near home; but must he give up his darling Katherine to further this plan?
"I like not it," he muttered. "God for the Dutchman made the Dutchwoman. That is the right way; but I will not make angry myself for so much of passion, so much of nothing at all to the purpose. That is the truth. Always I have found it so."
Then Lysbet, having finished her second locking up, entered the room. She came in